Trading Doctors
by Terrifica Oneiroi
Summary: Doctor James Wilson runs into a funny British Blonde in the hallway outside his office, which propells him into a world of "what?" previously unheard of. Just another day at PPTH.


* * *

This is a story I just found in one of my many spiral-bound notebooks that litter my bedroom. I thought it might be nice to go ahead and type it up, if only to get something new out there under my name.

Doctor Who / House, M.D. Crossover!

I don't own either one, really. Though, if I did... No, I'd probably keep them the same, only Hugh Laurie would be the New Doctor! (Is that really too much to ask for?)

They're all © BBC, and FOX, and whoever else owns them. Not me.

* * *

Dr James Wilson walked down the hallway with determination, making a bee-line for the resident Diagnostician's office. He supposed that the cutting in half of his tie while he'd been napping on the couch in his office was House's way of exciting revenge for the sawed cane stunt. That old familiar guilt tried to creep back up, but he had a sure-fire method of beating it into submission. It always helped to remember what an unmitigated bastard his closest friend was ninety percent of the time. James felt no more guilt in planning to avenge his tie.

He was so caught up in his devious plans that he literally ran into the young blonde woman. Although, if her own completely surprised face was anything to go by, she must not have been paying much attention, either. She'd grabbed his arm in an automatic gesture to keep them both from falling over when her hazel eyes fell on his sadly mangled tie, which he belatedly realized he'd forgotten to actually remove.

"Nice tie, mate."

James was surprised, albeit pleasantly, to hear her speak in a rolling English accent, much stronger than Chase's. He surmised that she must not have spent a lot of time in America, because her cockney wasn't a bit watered down. he bit off a grin as she slapped a hand over her mouth and rolled her eyes heavenward.

"Blimey, that was rude. Sorry."

He actually smiled this time. It seemed that this delightful young woman had a hard time censoring her inner thoughts.

"Don't be; I'll return the favor. You look completely lost."

She snorted, sounding resigned even in her laughter. It was oddly attractive.

" 'appens more often than you'd imagine."

She looked up and down the hallway, eyes finally landing on the scruffy-looking man with his face pressed against the glass like an orphaned puppy. James didn't have to wonder what caught the woman's attention. She even leaned to the side, peering around him, expression incredulous. When House banged on the glass wall with his cane, she raised her eyebrows and gestured towards the man acting like a primate on exhibit.

"Should 'e be strapped down somewhere, like a room with padded walls fer 'is protection?"

It certainly wasn't the first time someone had asked him that, and undoubtedly, it wouldn't be the last.

"Don't tell him that. Is he frowning?"

She cocked her head to the side, considering, and sending a curtain of hair swinging.

"Like a toddler who's Mum has taken away 'is sweet."

James' plans for revenge were scrapped when a new and better option presented itself.

"We have a sort of prank war goin on-"

"How _professional_."

It sounded scolding, but there was an evli gleam in her eyes, promising mischief. She whispered to him, not moving her lips.

Beautiful _and_ talented.

"_Drop your folder_."

James remembered the file he'd been holding when he'd caught sight of his mangled tie. The blue file fluttered gracefully to the floor, pages spilling out. the woman simpered in faux guilt.

"I'm so sorry! Let me get that, please!"

In that instant, James decided that whoever invented leather pants like that (most likely someone along the lines of David Bowie) should get the Nobel Prize. With her back to House, her black skin-tight pants stretched sinfully across her backside. He snuck a glace at the conference room where House and Chase were equally mezmerized.

She looked up at him, her head practically at crotch-height. She smirked slowly, revealing a gorgeous smile, with just the tip of her tongue showing between pearly teeth. There was no way that anyone would assume they had a strictly Doctor/Patient relationship, even if their minds weren't as far in the gutter as Greg's. She screamed "Naughty Doctor Role-playing".

It was perfect.

"Perhaps we could retire to my office to discuss your options?"

Something told him that the woman had done this kind of thing before. She sent him a smouldering look from under mink-thick eyelashes. When she stood, she arched her back, much the way an exotic dancer would would on a pole.

"I like options," she purred.

He gestured for her to walk ahead of him, and watched her perform. She was going for the full-monty, apparently, as she brushed past him while trailing a hand along his chest, and grabbed his half-tie, hauling him along behind her. James looked over his shoulder, sending a wink to the male trio at the glass, and let the leather-clad beauty lead him down the hallway.

When they entered his office, James rushed to lock the balcony door and draw the blinds. He leaned on his desk and laughed, imagining the conversation in the other room. The mystery woman joined in with her own peals of mirth, nose wrinkling cutely.

"Oh, thank you. That will drive him crazy."

She beamed up at him.

"A friend of yours, then?"

He was impressed that she'd spotted that, nodding and offering her a seat in front of his desk.

"Nearly fifteen years now."

The woman looked heavenward again, though still laughing.

"Give the man a medal."

James leaned back, shaking his head. She was something entirely new.

"It was good of you to play along. Most women would be scandalized at the mere suggestion."

She crossed her legs, and he noticed that the leather nicely accented her shapely calves.

"I've had the words "Distract the Guards" thrown at me a fair few times. Nothing to it, mate."

He was sure that there had to be a good story behind that, but didn't ask. Instead, he introduced himself properly.

"Doctor James Wilson, Head of Oncology."

She leaned forward and took his offered hand.

"Rose Tyler, and I've got a mate who needs some help, Doctor Wilson."

She held onto his hand and looked him square in the eyes.

"I'll do whatever I can. What type of cancer does he have?"

She _still_ had not let go of his hand.

"To be honest, he doesn't have cancer. Come to think of it, I'm not sure he actually can get cancer."

James considered the last statement, but filed it away for later.

"I don't quite follow you."

Rose sighed.

"I need someone intelligent, open-minded, and able to keep a secret upon pain of death."

James raised his eyebrows. This just kept getting weirder and weirder.

"May I ask why?"

She shrugged a little with her free shoulder.

"He's cranky, and he's a genius, and he's an alien."

He blinked. She'd said it in a manner that sounded a lot like sincerity. Her eyes drew him again, hazel and gold. The Earth and the Stars. He took a deep breath.

"I don't suppose you mean an illegal alien, do you?"

A shake of her head answered him. Of course not.

"Do you believe me?"

The question was put forth with a certain amount of resignation, like before. She expected him to answer no, and he certainly wanted to tell her that she was crazy and call an attendant from the third floor, but he couldn't. Her eyes were clear, and so intelligent.

"I suppose it would be pointless to lie about it, especially to a doctor, to whom it would be obvious."

Rose Tyler appeared to be considering.

"Well reasoned, Doctor Wilson."

She released his hand, and he tried no to feel disappointed.

"I think you've earned the right to call me James," he quipped. As expected, she grinned at him.

"It's an honor, and I'm Rose."

His smile turned into a grimace.

"Your friend?"

She chuckled at him, strangely.

"I can only imagine what you're envisioning right now. His name is the Doctor, just the Doctor. It's not a title like your. You don't have to look so frightened; he's humanoid, just like us."

James seriously doubted that he was _just like them._ It was already obvious that Rose Tyler was not _just like him_. He opened his mouth to ask her if she knew _non-_humanoid people, but stopped himself. It wasn't smart to borrow trouble; he had enough on his own.

"What's wrong with your Doctor, then?"

She stood, apparently agitated.

"Two days ago, Earth time, we were running from an angry horde of villagers on Malcaro. One of them had exceptional aim with his spear and caught the Doctor on the shoulder. He shrugged it off and disappeared into the Med Bay, but then, today, we were fighting this gigantic metal dog, and the Doctor got smacked up against the wall. I didn't realize that he was bleeding again until later. The idiot just ran the Dermal Regenerator over the wound, which is much too deep for a surface treatment like that. He can't sew it up properly himself, and my hands get shaky when I try to do things like that. Anyways, we spent the night in this manky prison, so the thing's probably infected, too."

James nodded. Apart from the alien bits, it sounded like pretty regular wound care.

"Sounds simple enough."

Rose shrugged again.

"He's got two hearts, a respitory bypass system, and he's allergic to aspirin, _deathly_ allergic. You can't draw blood because one drop of it could change the course of human history, which is _bad_. His brain is wired in ways you can't begin to comprehend. He likes to lick things."

James waited just a moment before busting out with laughter.

"Have you memorized that entire speech?"

She grinned sheepishly, having been caught.

"Might have done, yeah. Should I go get him?"

He started to answer when a strange breeze began to blow; the windows and doors were all closed.

"Nevermind!"

When he turned to look at Rose, she was grinning like crazy and bouncing on her toes. Behind her, a blue light flashed, seemingly in the middle of the room. Around that light, blue wood appeared, taking on the shape of a large box, across the top of which was a cheerfully light sign proclaiming the odd thing to be a Police Public Call Box. With a thumping sound that reverberated in his eardrums, the light was extinguished and the breeze died down. He did manage to tear his eyes away from the impossible thing now dwarfing his office furniture, catching Rose in the act of searching her pockets.

Those pants had _pockets_?

"That's the Tardis. T-A-R-D-I-S. It means Time And Relative Dimensions In Space."

He gaped as she pulled a key out of some hidden compartment and held it up triumphantly.

"It's a spaceship?" he gasped.

Rose furrowed her brows.

"_She_ is a dimensionally transcendent being who can travel in both space and time."

James blinked owlishly.

"It's a spaceship _and_ a time machine?"

The blonde turned to face him again.

"Essentially, yes, but she's also a living thing. And she has one hell of a memory, so watch what you say about her."

He just shook his head. It was possible that he was still asleep, having the most fantastic dream.

On second thought, his subconscious wasn't this creative.

"Oi! You, Rose Tyler, turned my ship against me!"

James hadn't been aware that the box, the _Tardis_, had a door until it swung open, revealing a tall, thin man in a brown pin-striped suit. Apart from the fact that said man had just appeared out of nowhere, he looked absolutely normal. He saw Rose fold her arms defensively out of the corner of his eye.

"You're bleeding all over her, and now she's got to sterilize every piece of grating from the doorway to the Med Bay."

The man sniffed petulantly.

"She's had worse."

Rose put the key around her neck (James had only just realized it was on a chain) and approached the man, the _Doctor_.

"I know, but I can't fix you, so I did what us humans do. I found the right sort of Doctor. I don't like seeing you in pain and not doing anything about it."

The man's face, which was scolding before, softened dramatically and he sighed. James had a queer sense that this had all happened numerous times before. When the man reached for Rose, she went automatically into his embrace, squeezing him around the middle. A hiss escaped on a breath that was forced through clenched teeth, and Rose leapt back and pointed an accusing finger.

"Ah-ha! I knew it, mister!"

The Doctor-man frowned down at her.

"You look just like your mother when you do that."

James' eyes drifted down to the pert, leather-covered bottom, wondering how much truth was in that last statement. When he looked up, the man caught his wandering eye.

It was like looking into the eyes of a cliché. Until now, he'd assumed that "stormy gaze" was just an expression, but this man's, no, this _alien's_ very gaze promised destruction and ruin. The message was crystal clear.

_Hands. Off. The. Blonde._

Doctor James Wilson, Head of Oncology at the noteworthy Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital found himself resisting the urge to run away from that look. Rose seemed oblivious to it, though. Perhaps she was immune.

"There's no need to be throwin' insults, Doctor. Go let Doctor Wilson patch you up proper, and then we can go, I promise. After we leave, you're grounded for three days, no exceptions, and you can bet that I can convince the Tardis to listen to me. Then, if you behave, I'll use the dermal on the outer layers to finish the job. I'm going to change out of this ridiculous get-up, and then I'll start cleaning the blood stains off the couch."

Rose stuck her hand into the man's suit pocket and came out with some strange gadget.

"Setting 15b," the man muttered, at which Rose rolled her eyes again.

"I know. Go."

James opened the door to his office, intending to lead the man/alien to a room and suture the wound. He only just heard rose call her friend back.

"Doctor?"

A long-suffering sigh escaped the man, though he was smiling at her.

"Yes, dear?"

She leaned out of the box's doorway, with an eyebrow raised.

"Cut the pissing contest. You're the only Doctor for me."

All signs of exasperation fled the alien's face as he turned back around. The grin could have replaced the sun, and there was a definite bounce to the Converse-clad feet as the man passed him in the doorway.

"Alright, Human Doctor, let's do this before she burns a hole in the sofa."

* * *

So how about a "yay!" for my first post since August 30th? Anyone? Hellooooo??

Reviews would be absolutely lovely, but I'll take it as a compliment that you're reading this in the first place. Really, thanks!


End file.
